


ParkWeasel

by Frumpologist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 90s Summer Camp Nostalgia, Adventure and Hijinx, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Magic Summer Camp, Summer Camp, camp counselors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2020-04-22 23:50:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19139350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frumpologist/pseuds/Frumpologist
Summary: Pansy Parkinson spends her summer as a camp counselor. Percy Weasley is the bane of her existence during the summer until the two share an epic adventure... and the campers start to ship them together.





	ParkWeasel

**Author's Note:**

  * For [crochetaway](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crochetaway/gifts).



> This story was written for the Draco’s Den School’s Out For The Summer fic exchange. The prompt was: Characters are counselors at wizarding summer camp! Hi-jinks ensue when campers start 'shipping their counselors.

“Miss Pansy!” The little snot-nosed tween ran after her with flailing limbs and a ridiculous smile. “Miss! Pansy!”

Pansy tried her best not to hear the little brat, but at some point she’d have to pretend to care. She did like her job, after all, just not the… filth of it all. The tween — Dorcas? A horrible name — was covered in Merlin-knew-what, a sticky, disgusting mess.

“For Salazar’s sake, Dorcas, it’s a simple  _ scourgify _ .” Pansy brandished her wand and disappeared the gunk on the little witch’s clothes and face. “You have a wand, use it.”

“Counselor Parkinson.” 

A bloody Weasel. Of course it was. He was everywhere she was because, as he liked to remind her, he was a leader and she was a measly coordinator and it was his bloody  _ duty _ to ensure she wasn’t terrorizing the pre-teen campers with horror stories of Hogwarts.

“We we’re feeding the kelpies, Weasley.” Pansy didn’t slow down her stride, forcing Weasley to take long steps just to keep up. “The little beast fell into the water and got tangled with seaweed.”

“And you’re sure that you didn’t…” Pansy glared at Weasley, who swallowed a thick knot under her stare. “... give her a shove?”

“What? No!” She rolled her eyes. “Do you think they’d continue to hire me back here if I was known to try and drown children? Sod off, Weasley.”

“Too right.” And then he was gone. 

It shouldn’t have surprised her, that Weasley thought the worst of her. She was known for being less than maternal when it came to the campers, though deep down she really did enjoy her time with them. When activities kept them occupied and they didn’t have time to complain and whinge about every little thing — they were alright. 

“Are you and Mister Weasley in love?” Dorcas, the little badger-in-training, stoke Weasleys spot by her side. “Ophelia says that you two argue like her mum and dad and it means that you love each other.”

Pansy stopped walking and stared down at the grinning girl with a fierce snarl on her lips. “Delusional child. You run back and tell Ophelia that it sounds as if her parents need counseling.”

“But — we all  _ ship _ you.” Dorcas’ smile only grew. 

“I’m sorry. You  _ what _ ?” Pansy’s eyebrows rose high onto her forehead. The beat of the Scotland sun tanned her skin and lightened her dark hair. 

“Ship. You know — relation _ ship _ .” The girl laughed but Pansy couldn’t find the amusement. “We want you to kiss and fall in love and have a million babies.”

“A million…” It was amazing that she hadn’t fainted. “No one wants a million little drunken orangutans running around with snot dripping out of their noses, demanding food.”

Pansy just stared as little Dorcas laughed again. She didn’t appear fazed at all by Pansy’s insistence that no woman in her right mind would dare dream for a million babies. Except, perhaps, Weasley’s mother, who had popped out more children than they had galleons in their savings. She sighed, still indignant, and shooed the little badger away.

“Go find Counselor Lovegood. She’ll force you to do macaroni art and teach you how to make it move.”

Finally, mercifully, Pansy was alone on her journey back to the counselors’ lounge. There was an hour long break before she had to take the campers out for hippogriff rides. It was nice and cool inside the lounge and most of the staff were out playing games with their respective group of children. Pansy fixed her hair, splashed on a smudge of pink lip gloss, and conjured a few snacks from the kitchens. Everything was nice and quiet until one ginger-headed git decided to ruin her peace.

“Counselor Parkinson.” Weasley tipped his chin at her and breezed by to the cooler that held bottled drinks. “On a break, I see.”

“Obviously,” She drawled slowly as she chewed on a crunchy granola bar. Pansy surveyed him closely, the swagger in his gait, the squared shoulders, and perfect posture. Then, she laughed. 

“What’s so funny?” He eyed her shrewdly and unstoppered his bottle. His throat jumped under the swallow. 

“The little campers — the tweens that I counsel — they ship us.” She laughed some more because she just couldn’t fathom it. A Weasley and a Parkinson spitting out a million babies and falling in love? Merlin, no. 

Weasley furrowed his brow. “The vernacular is lost on me, Parkinson.”

“As in, they’d like to see us fall in love and have oodles of little weasel children.” Pansy rolled her eyes. “As in relation _ ship _ . What do you do, Weasley, hide under a rock?”

She completely disregarded that she’d only learned the term half an hour before. 

Weasley made a noise in his throat, akin to disgust. “A million  _ babies _ ? Seven was enough to send half my family mad. No, I don’t think I quite enjoy this shipping lark.”

“It’s good to know we agree on something, at least.” She popped more granola in her mouth. Pansy didn’t even question that Weasley hadn’t spoken his opinion on the rest. “What is your next round?”

“Hippogriffs with you.” 

And then he sauntered out of the cabin and vanished as quickly as he’d entered.

_ Ugh _ — more time with Weasley, monitoring her every move. He never took his eyes off her when they were paired together. Always studious in the way he documented her processes and wrote up her reviews. It was unsettling. His stare was intense, almost as if under the keen eye of a professor at Hogwarts.

She made her way to the hippogriff pen rather lazily. The long, winding trails of the Scottish forest tired out her legs, but the shade from the sun was Salazar sent. Weasley arrived not long after her and the camp counselor responsible for the schedules, Terry Boot, arrived after them with half a dozen campers in tow.

“Did you know they’re calling you Weasleyson?” Terry asked as he saddled up closely to her. 

She grimaced in return. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“From what I’ve gathered from the little blighters, it’s your ship name.” His smile was white and large and entirely unapologetic. She wanted to stuff mud into his mouth to mask its appearance. 

“Merlin’s pants!” She startled the campers, who were all a-titter, pointing at her and Weasley and giggling behind their messy, filthy hands. “Knock it off, you loathsome—”

Weasley’s stare cut to her and the curse died on her lips. 

“That’s a terrible ship name,” she said instead. “Come now, who wants to ride Twinkletoes?”

Half a dozen hands shot into the air. The bodies attached wiggled and jumped to try and get her attention. 

“Hornsby.” Pansy pointed at the smallest child, a bespectacled and awkward girl that would no doubt become a studious Ravenclaw in a few years’ time. “Remember: you must bow first.”

“She’s huge!” The girl, Willow, shook in the towering shadow of the beast. She smiled and bowed, lifted her gaze but not her head. 

The great, grey and white hippogriff sniffed the air and took a step forward. It was Pansy’s nature to coil and place a hand on the handle of her wand. Just in case. And she could feel Weasley’s gaze with each and every movement she made. Finally, Twinkletoes graced Willow with a bow.

Pansy ushered the girl to Twinkletoes after a bow of her own. With a heave and a lift, she placed Willow on the hippogriff’s back and stepped backward — almost on top of Weasley. His hand gripped her waist and steadied her step. When he spoke, it was low and quiet, just at the shell of her ear. 

“Easy, Pansy.” His breath tickled the fine hair at the base of her ear. “I’ve got you.”

The combination of his hold, his words, his concern, her first name — it stroked something lovely inside of her. And it frightened her. There would be no Weasleyson ship sailing today. She stepped away from Weasley and put a nice bit of space between them. 

“Willow, as we practiced: gently, now.” She was shaken, but she kept her eyes pinned on Willow and refused to glance at the ginger menace. Disregarding entirely that he hadn’t taken his eyes off her. 

It happened so quickly, Pansy didn’t see it coming. One second, Willow was on the ground trotting with the hippogriff and the next, she was launched into the air with the beast, whose wings were spread wide. 

“Hornsby!” Pansy shouted. The kids around her all laughed and cheered. Weasley was at her back, wand drawn, whispering curses she’d scarcely heard from him in the past. “Tighten your grip, girl! Yes, very good, now steer her down.”

“I don’t know how!” The girl shouted back. “She’s going too high!”

And sure enough, Twinkletoes sailed upwards. Pansy couldn’t stun the beast — too much damage. She looked around helplessly and quickly, and devised her plan with little more than an oath under her breath. 

“Weasley, follow me.” She didn’t bother to ensure he was following. “Bow to Brightwing. Good boy, Brighty, good. See, we won’t hurt you.”

The dark feathered beast bowed back to them both in turn. Pansy wasted no time launching herself onto its back and holding her hand out to Weasley. 

“When we get to her, you take Brightwing back to ground. I’ll get Willow safe behind you.” Pansy didn’t wait for him to agree. She kicked off the ground and swooped with the hippogriff as if she’d done it all her life. 

Weasley’s hands gripped her waist tightly. Fingers curled into the thin cotton material of her shirt. He pressed his forehead between her shoulder blades. 

“I don’t fancy flying,” he said with a sickening gasp. They shot higher into the air. “Parkinson—”

Pansy flew faster and then handed the reins over to Weasley. “Here, take them, Weasley. I’m going to jump and you need to hold him steady.”

“What? No!” Weasley took the reins anyway but tightened the grip of his legs against her thighs. “It’s too bloody risky, Pansy. No. As the leader of—”

She jumped anyway. 

She fell free and thought, for just a moment, that somehow she’d channeled the ridiculous nature of a Gryffindor, and her father was never going to forgive her if this was how she died.

As she sped toward Twinkletoes, Pansy reached out and managed a handful of feathers. She yanked and the beast reared back. There was no time for fear. She used all of her strength to vault herself into its back properly and grabbed the reins from tiny Willow. 

“You-are-in-so-much-trouble,” Pansy gritted our through her teeth as she twisted and pulled and spurred the beast back to the ground. She didn’t care that the child was crying — wailing — her only objective was to land safely. 

And finally, they did, and Pansy had never been so damn happy to see the earth beneath her feet. She would have sagged to the ground and actually kissed the dirt, but arms circled her before she fell. Strong, thin arms that belonged to a hard body. When she craned her neck to thank whoever it was, she was shocked to find Weasley staring back at her. 

“Alright, Parkinson?”

“You should kiss now!” A little girl suggested with a giddy giggle. The kids broke out in whispers. “He saved you!”

“Saved?” Pansy wrenched herself away from Weasley. “He didn’t save me —  _ I  _ saved  _ Willow. _ ”

“And then you almost fainted!” Willow shouted gleefully. “But Counselor Percy saved you!”

She turned to find Weasley with a stupid smirk on his face. Nevermind that it suited his face. 

“Counselor Parkinson doesn’t need saving,” Weasley said calmly, lips twitching at the corners. “She just lost her footing a little.”

“Parcy.” A girl yelled and then clapped. The group followed. Even Terry Boot joined in. “Parcy! Parcy! Parcy!”

Pansy growled. “We are not a ship! Parcy is a stupid name for a ship! Hippogriffs are cancelled — off you trot.”

She grabbed the reins on Twinkletoes and Weasley took charge of Brightwing. Terry led the campers away while Pansy grumbled all the way back to the hippogriff pen.

“I don’t believe I have ever witnessed someone jump through the air quite like that before.” Weasley still hadn’t lost that cheeky smile on his face. And had his eyes always been so blue and light and cheerful? “I’m impressed, actually.”

“Glad to make an impression, Weasley.” Pansy sighed as she opened the pen and led the beasts inside. “Bloody useless, you were.”

Of all things, he laughed. And to make it even worse, she couldn’t stop herself from joining him. The entire afternoon had been ludicrous and though she wanted to be surly, something lighter took over at the sound of his amusement. 

“I managed to return the beast to the ground,” he argued lightly. “Not so useless, if I do say so myself.”

“If it pleases you.” She shrugged as they left the pen, shoulder to shoulder and made their way back to the main camp. 

“Is your schedule clear for the rest of the day?” Weasley peered at her with a sideways glance and she nodded. “Except the bonfire, of course. Would you care to, maybe, join me for a swim?”

“Er—” Pansy chewed the corner of her lip. “I don’t really swim.”

“A float, then. Just nip into the water and enjoy a few moments without the children or… other staff.” His face flushed red. 

“You want to get me alone?” It was easy to flirt with him. She wondered how red he would go. 

“Is that so bad?” 

It was her turn to blush. The way he smiled at her — it wasn’t the typical leer she was used to, nor was it the heavy-handed flirting that usually met her. She kind of liked it, in a strange, wouldn’t-admit-it-to-anyone sort of way. 

Before she knew it, they were at the loch. It occurred to Pansy as she watched Weasley pull his shirt and shorts off, that she wasn’t actually wearing a swimming costume.

“I haven’t brought my costume—” Pansy glanced around and, spotting no one, lifted her shirt from the hem and tossed it aside. She smirked at the way Weasley averted his eyes when her shorts dropped to the ground, and then she strolled into the cold loch water. “Remember, my eyes are up here.”

They chatted about nothing consequential — schedules and campers and the thrill of the day. She realized that Weasley floated closer to her every time she laughed and it made her want to continue laughing until he was less than arm's length from her. Pansy felt something touch her leg and she launched herself forward. Before she crashed into him, Weasley had his arms wrapped around her. She didn’t have a moment to breathe or to figure out which creature swam against her leg — Weasley’s lips were on hers. 

He barely had a chance to open his mouth and coax their tongues together. A loud, giggling chorus of “whoop!” and finger snaps resounded around them and they broke apart immediately. 

“Er, my apologies, Counselor Parkinson,” Weasley said with tinged red cheeks. “An audience was not on my agenda.”

“Park-Wee-zul. Park-Wee-zul!” The campers chanted from the little stone and dirt shore.

“ParkWeasel?” Pansy sighed, a shake to her head. “They can’t come up with something… nicer?”

“It has a ring to it.” He grinned and put a hand on her hip. “It’s certainly no lie that you’ll come first.”

That was the moment she knew that she’d always underestimated Percy Weasley. And Pansy hoped that it wasn’t a boastful comment — but she knew she’d find out soon enough.

He pulled her from the water as soon as the campers scattered. His hands got lost in her dark, cropped hair as hers dug into the flesh at his back. He was all sinew and freckled skin, lean and strong, sure and confident as he led them in a heated snog. 

Later that evening, the counselors and campers sat around a bonfire for storytelling and roasted marshmallows. Pansy’s mind wandered to this new thing with Weasley — ParkWeasel — and what it meant for her life outside of camp. No doubt they would face their share of adversity, but she was determined to break through his proper exterior and see the man who’d managed to  real through her own guarded facade. 

Weasley held a skewer out, roasting the fluffy, white marshmallow until it caught fire. When it was sufficiently tinged brown, Weasley offered the treat to Pansy. She plucked it off the end of the metal prong, popped the marshmallow in her mouth with a quirk of her pink lips, and tried not to blush under Weasley’s darkening gaze. 

He turned from her finally and addressed the campers, and Pansy couldn’t take her eyes off him. 

“It was a dark and stormy night…”


End file.
